Authors: Naomi Clark
“
You’re not my type,” I
assured him as we left.
***
“Not entirely a wasted day,” Shannon said as we drove home. “I
still don’t feel like we’re really onto it yet though. I’ll have to
ask Tina about this Stuart or Simon, see if she knows
anything.”
I stared out the window at the passing
houses. Twilight was falling fast, bringing another light snow
shower with it. The streetlights turned the snow orange, giving the
city an eerie, otherworldly glow. “What about the wolf Tina had the
affair with?” I asked. “Is it worth checking him out?”
“
I’ve pretty much ruled him
out already,” she replied. “According to Tina, he bitterly regrets
the affair and is working hard to repair his marriage.”
“
She already told you about
the affair?”
Shannon shrugged. “I asked her about Molly’s
dad and it came up. She didn’t go into much detail.”
“
Has he got kids, the other
man?” I asked.
“
None. Which I suppose just
compounds the damage. His wife can’t conceive, but he knocks up the
first woman he hops into bed with for a drunken fling. It’s got to
be unbearable for the wife.”
And it hammered home how strange it was that
Tina had aborted the child. To conceive twice ought to be a joyous
triumph for a wolf, regardless of the circumstances. I wondered, if
she hadn’t been caught out, would she have kept the cub and claimed
it as her husband’s?
“
Here’s what I think at the
moment,” Shannon continued. “It’s a straightforward enough
scenario. Molly’s angry and resentful over how the Pack treated her
mum, but she’s also angry at Tina for messing up her—their—life.
She’s fallen in with a bad crowd, probably got into drugs if what
Marc says is true and now she’s met someone new and she’s run off
with him. It’s a way to upset and piss off her mum and get some
attention at the same time.”
“
If that’s the case, she
might just come back on her own when she’s had enough,” I mused.
“She’s only fourteen—she’ll miss her home comforts soon enough,
surely?”
“
Hopefully, but I think I
have to act like that’s not the case. Which means the next steps
are finding out who this Stuart or Simon is and figuring out how
she might have left the city. Checking out CCTV and that sort of
thing.” She rubbed her forehead. “I hate going through CCTV tapes.
It’s so bloody boring.”
“
Find out if she was into
Silver Kiss,” I said. “Vince said Oscar was fine until he started
smoking that.”
She nodded, but I could tell she was only
half listening. “I never thought of wolves as being into drugs,”
she said after a brief silence. “It’s weird to think of werewolves
shooting up or snorting coke.”
“
Well, maybe we’re not as
superior to you puny humans as we like to make out.” I switched the
radio on and the blast of bubbly pop music filled the car, keeping
us both quiet until we were back home.
Actually, there was a long tradition of
drug-use in werewolf history. Back in the Middle Ages, before it
was understood that wolves and humans were separate species, people
believed they could transform themselves into werewolves by using
potions and rituals. They’d smear themselves in anise and opium, or
drink beer mixed with blood under the light of the full moon and
wait for Satan to show up and gift them with wolf shape.
In Egypt, where they’d been more into cats,
it was believed that cat spirits could possess a human and
transform them that way, if the human had taken the right mixture
to open them up to the spirit world. We’d all heard the stories of
the kugarvad—cat shifters—as children, but they were extinct now,
if they’d ever existed at all. Wherever you looked in history,
humans, shapeshifting and hallucinogenics were tightly woven
together.
Of course, none of that was useful to
Shannon, so I didn’t lecture her on werewolf history throughout the
ages. She’d had to do Lupine Studies in school same as me.
SIX
I’d planned a run with
Vince and Joel
for Friday night, in Larkspur Park. I went there straight from
work, feeling a pang of guilt at leaving Shannon home alone for the
night. She was busy making calls about CCTV, guaranteed no fun at
all. It wasn’t that she didn’t have friends here—she was pretty
cozy with the family next door to us—but there was so much I did
that she couldn’t join in with here. When it had just been the two
of us, me a lone wolf with no Pack to run with, it had always
been
our
friends,
our
social life. Now it was mine and hers and I didn’t like the
divide.
Nor could I do much about it. She couldn’t
run with the three of us. That was just fact, whether I liked it or
not.
I smothered my guilt as I arrived at Joel’s
place and caught a whiff of steak and chips, Vince’s Friday night
staple. Joel let me in and ushered me into the kitchen where a
bottle of beer was already waiting for me.
“
We should really do
something as a foursome next Friday,” Joel said, echoing my earlier
thoughts. “Maybe a film or something?”
“
I’d love that. Shannon
would too,” I said, sniffing my beer. It was faintly redolent of
bananas and I checked the label to see it was indeed banana bread
flavored. Seemed utterly pointless to me, but Vince was a member of
one of these ale clubs that sent you weird varieties every now and
then. I’d been given chocolate beer last weekend. I hadn’t been
able to finish it. Some things just aren’t meant to go together.
Banana bread beer was strangely palatable though.
“
How’s she doing anyway?”
Vince asked from by the oven. “Any new gossip on the Tina Brady
case?”
“
It’s not about gossip,” I
told him tartly, “it’s about finding her daughter. Shannon’s
working her fingers to the bone on it.” I picked at the label on my
bottle. “I think she’s enjoying it, actually, as hard as it is.
It’s a complete change of direction for her.”
Vince dropped a handful of chunky mushrooms
into a frying pan sizzling with oil. “You know, we were talking
about it the other night. Seems like not so long ago that you were
taking off yourself, Ayla. I guess nothing changes.”
I thought about that, thought too about the
missing werewolf up in Yorkshire. I suppose the first reaction when
a child—human or wolf—went missing, was to assume the worst.
Pedophiles, drugs, rape. But it didn’t have to be that sinister,
did it? Maybe Molly had just run off to spend some quality time
with a new boyfriend, maybe the Yorkshire kid had a blazing row
with his parents and went off to teach them a lesson.
“
It’s a different world now
though,” Joel said, joining me at the table. “Alpha Humans didn’t
exist ten years ago. There weren’t so many problems with gangs and
knives.”
Alpha Humans wasn’t an angle Shannon had
pursued yet. I hoped she wouldn’t. Last time we’d encountered one
of their groups, she’d ended up with two broken ribs. My wolf
shuddered at the memory. To distract myself and my wolf, I changed
the subject. “How’s work, Vince? Oscar still giving you
problems?”
Vince shook his head. “Greg finally lost his
temper and sacked him. He’s probably at home licking his wounded
pride right now. Things have calmed down a bit since that.”
“
And you?” I asked
Joel.
He grinned, popping open his own beer. “I
just won a contract to design the new science department at the
local secondary school.” He raised his bottle to clink with mine.
“Got the news today.”
“
That’s fantastic!” I
exclaimed. “Why aren’t we having a proper celebration?”
“
Because we’re having it
tomorrow,” Joel said. “I’ve booked a table at the Fleur de
Lis—seven o’ clock sharp. I assumed you and Shannon wouldn’t have
any plans.”
“
That was very presumptuous
of you,” I scolded lightly, “but as it happens, we don’t. Of course
we’d love to come! Who else is coming?”
“
My folks and Vince’s and
Glory, once she’s finished at Silks. She probably won’t make it
until later, but she’ll do her best.”
Joel’s success dominated the conversation
throughout the meal. He talked animatedly about his plans for the
project, talking in architectural jargon that meant nothing to
me—or Vince, judging from his vaguely baffled expression—but his
passion was clear. As we cleared up after the rare steaks and
homemade chips, our thoughts turned away from ceiling arches and
support struts and to the run.
The skies had been clear all day, promising
a frosty but snow-free night and I was itching to get out there and
run. My skin felt too small and tight, my wolf desperate to burst
out. But as Joel filled the dishwasher and Vince dropped our beer
bottles in the recycling bin, I recalled the feral wolf and the
youngster he’d been pushing around. I rubbed my shoulder absently.
The wound had healed up quickly; I didn’t even have a scar. I
hadn’t mentioned the encounter to anyone other than Shannon and I
hadn’t heard any news relating to it. No rumors about ferals in the
city, no word of another young wolf going missing. So I’d dismissed
it as a freak occurrence. Maybe it had been a feral who’d decided
to rejoin society. I’d never heard of it happening, but surely it
did?
With the night outside
calling to the wolf inside, I tried once more to dismiss it, but
the image kept coming back to me.
The
feral chasing off after the youngster, the untamed light in his
amber eyes
. I bit my lip, chewing on my
ring.
“
Come on, girlfriend.”
Vince said, slapping me on the shoulder. “The night
awaits!”
We stripped in the garden and shifted fast.
The cold was exhilarating, affecting my worried mind like a douse
of icy water. I shook my head and huffed, looking around for Vince
and Joel. Vince had already bounded over the fence into the park
with a yip of excitement. Joel was crouched down next to me, head
to the ground, hindquarters up in the air. His tail whipped back
and forth, inviting me to play.
I dashed at him, feigning an attack before
breaking off to circle round and grab his tail. We tussled, rolling
around in the snow with mock growls and snaps, until Vince started
barking at us on the other side of the fence, an edge of a whine in
his tone. We were ignoring him. I broke away from Joel and leapt
the fence. Joel joined us, immediately dashing to his mate to
engage in more play fighting.
Larkspur Park wasn’t the biggest park in the
city, but it was my favorite. Most wolves tended to head for
Moreland when they wanted a run, so the hunting was always good
here. I put my nose to the ground, pushing through the light
dusting of snow to search for deer. Their rich, gamey scent was
faint here, so close to the houses, but deeper in the park it would
get stronger. I wagged my tail, anticipating a chase. I wasn’t out
to kill or eat; not after the meal I’d just eaten, but a good hunt
was its own reward sometimes. Shannon didn’t get that. She thought
it was immoral to terrify the poor deer by stalking them that way,
which I didn’t get. Surely killing one and not eating it would be
worse?
A quick glance at Vince and Joel told me I
wouldn’t have any company on my run. They were tangled up in each
other, a knot of gold and black fur and wagging tails. I huffed my
disgust and trotted off, leaving them to it.
I quickly found my deer, a young buck,
strong and healthy. He wouldn’t suffer too much from a little game
of chase, I decided. Shannon would approve. I picked up his scent
and followed it into the clutch of shadowy trees ahead, my paws
gliding silently over the snow. After a while, Vince and Joel’s
yips faded away and I was alone in the woods. Owls called to each
other over my head and every now and then I heard a faint splash as
some water creature went about its own nocturnal business. A chill
wind ruffled my fur as I tracked the buck and despite my hot blood,
I felt a pang for the heat of summer. The height of summer was the
time of the other big festival in the werewolf calendar—the Green
Wolf ceremony. That one I truly loved and had observed even during
my years as a lone wolf. I was already looking forward to
celebrating it as part of the Pack again—and it was one Shannon
could attend too.
My mind wandering, I didn’t recognize the
sound for what it was at first. I absently assumed it was a bird,
maybe a cat crying. It took a few slow minutes for me to realize
that yes, it was crying. Human crying. A child crying.
I forgot my buck and pricked up my ears to
pinpoint the sound. There—off to the east, not too far from me. I
picked up my pace, moving from a steady lope to a run, nerves on
fire. Both my wolf and human instincts urged me on and in seconds
I’d leapt a thicket of dead blackberry bushes to find myself in a
small clearing.
Not alone. A girl was shivering in the
shadow of a pine tree, curled in on herself in what had to be a
fruitless attempt to stay warm. She stank of Pack and of fear and
of another scent I couldn’t place, but knew I knew. As a wolf, I
only saw in shades of sepia and grey, so all I could really tell
from here was that her hair was dark. I padded cautiously to her,
her choked sobs tugging at my heart, and nudged her arm with my
nose. She stiffened, her breathing fast and shallow, and she turned
her head to me. Terror and desperation was etched on her thin
features and I could almost taste the fight-or-flight conflict
going on inside her. Not wanting to scare her any further, I backed
away and sat down, contriving to look as harmless as I could.